On the morning of the 31st, wisps of white smoke rose above Dog Forest City—a sight unique to when the smelting workshops and blacksmith shops of the city began their work.
At the entrance to the city warehouse, a crowd of Beastmen and Dwarves waited outside. Before them stood a row of towering Lizardman mercenaries, guarding the warehouse gates so tightly that not even a drop could seep through.
Before long, a tall Pigman emerged from the warehouse. Turning to the Werewolf beside him with satisfaction, he said, "Chief Tagwa, the goods in your warehouse are indeed accounted for down to the last scrap. I will report this to the Royal Court!"
Werewolf Tagwa looked somewhat troubled as he faced this Pigman sent by the Royal Court. Doing his best to look ingratiating, he said with a smile, "Chief Olsen, the goods in this warehouse do not all belong to us Scorch Wolf alone. Most belong to the local merchants and workshops. Without them, they won't be able to continue producing goods or doing business!"
"Listen to yourself. Do they not need to pay taxes to the Royal Court?"
The Pigman dismissed the Werewolf's words with a snort. "In the past, Elf bandits ran rampant, throwing local security into chaos and cutting off trade routes. But now the Royal Court's army has arrived, those Elves will no longer have the chance to cause trouble. The merchants can naturally resume their businesses. Why worry that there will be no profits in the future?"
"Ah, this...?"
Tagwa felt sickened by the Royal Court envoy's sanctimonious act, yet he did not dare say so outright. Looking at the eager-eyed local merchants surrounding the warehouse, the Werewolf forced himself to say, "My lord, even if the merchants ought to pay taxes, they should at